


Snow Globes

by Caffeine_and_CompSci



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 20:31:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20459027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffeine_and_CompSci/pseuds/Caffeine_and_CompSci
Summary: It was six months after he left that the first one appeared.





	Snow Globes

**Author's Note:**

> All edits are just fixing typos. Sorry!

It was six months after he left that the first one showed up in her squat. 

The package was cleaner and more pristine than anything else in the place. It stood out right away.

Her guard instantly shot up.

_ Not right! Not right! Someone’s been here! Time to move!  _

Selina circled the package mistrustfully until one of her cats jumped up onto the table beside it. Her breath caught and she waited for the fallout. 

When all she heard was the creak of the wood, she relaxed infinitesimally. When the tabby swatted at it and nothing exploded, she let out a half chuckle and walked towards the table, untying the tweed string and slicing open the box with her knife. 

She expected a guilt-trip from her mother, some old relic to show that she still loved Selina and should convince her boyfriend to give her more money. She expected a bomb from one of Jerome Valaska’s followers or someone else she’d pissed off lately. She expected something emotionally or physically dangerous. 

She was pleasantly surprised. 

The contents were wrapped in newspaper like something from one of those tourist shops downtown. 

It was a snow globe. 

A large snow globe about five inches in diameter sat in her palm, white, glittery, powdery flakes dancing around each other. Inside the globe were snowy mountains. Not just the typical triangles one finds in normal shops. This mountain was jagged and realistic, as if it were a real mountain, shrunk and preserved inside the tiny sphere. The base was exquisite craftsmanship. It was obviously hand-carved and the inlays looked like real gold. She idly wondered how much she could get for it. 

Then the words on the base registered. 

Nanda Parbhat. 

_Shit. _

Her guard shot back up as she carefully inspected the object. The bottom had an inscription:

_I love you. I miss you. I’ll be back soon. _

_\- Bruce_

She set it down, her hand trembling. 

_Damn it! He wasn’t allowed to do this!_

Six months without a word. Six months since he _left_ her, saying goodbye in a godforsaken _note_. Six months since he _abandoned_ her like everyone else had. 

He wasn’t worth her time. 

She wanted to throw it out, to smash it, to sell it. She wanted to get rid of that infernal reminder that the only one she had ever truly loved had thrown her aside like street trash. 

But...

But she looked at it and she remembered the way he had kissed her at Lee and Jim’s wedding, a moment of celebration amidst the most awful times Gotham had ever faced. She remembered the sanctuary she found every time he stole her away from the masses to go on “scouting missions.” She remembered the way he held her and treasured her and told her the most beautiful things. 

This wasn’t like the last time he had presented her with a snow globe, when they were both young and he was an apologetic, stuttering, adorable mess who’d just come home from Switzerland. 

This time, he was a confident man, unapologetically secure in his vision of right and wrong. He was the capable fighter who refused to return her blows when she screamed and raved about her mother. He was the patient and loving boyfriend who sat at her bedside as she faced the unfathomable reality that she would never walk again. This time they were bound regardless of whether she took the gift. 

So what was the harm if she kept it? 

She put the globe on a shelf, secure in the knowledge that she could leave it there as a pretty ornament collecting dust. 

And if she ran a rag over it a bit more often than her other belongings, it was just because it accumulated dust faster than the other items in the room which were already black and gray so she couldn’t tell if they were dusty. 

And if she stole a little polish for it, almost getting caught in the process, it was just because she liked the sparkle it gave off when the sun hit it just right. 

And if she added the other snow globes to her collection as the arrived, it was just because she thought they were a neat collector’s item and she could pawn them off for a grand sum sometime in the future. 

Monaco. 

Paris. 

Budapest. 

Syria. 

Cairo. 

Venezuela. 

They came every six months like clockwork. Always from a place in violent political upheaval or under siege from terrorist attacks. The bottoms were inscribed with the same message: 

_I love you. I miss you. I’ll be back soon. _

_\- Bruce_

She grew to expect them, little packages filled with newspaper-wrapped treasures. Ten years she got them. Twenty lined up along a shelf she’d stolen specifically to showcase them. Bruce’s definition of “soon” needed some revision. 

Then one day, the snow globe didn’t come. 

Selina flew into a panic. 

What happened? Was he sick? Injured? Dying? Dead? 

She called Alfred and Jim and Barbara and _Harvey_. 

Nothing. 

She felt irrational, crazy. She was freaking out because a boy she hadn’t seen in ten years didn’t send a snow globe on time. A boy who claimed to love her and left. A boy who’d been spewing false promises for years now. A boy she hated... kind of. 

A week later, she put her feelings aside and concentrated on her survival. 

She was good at that.

_Break in. Steal. Sell. Survive. _

Simple. 

She returned back to her squat just as the sun began to rise, enough money to buy groceries for the next month and restock her ever-dwindling first aid kit. 

The door was ajar. 

She flicked open her knife and nudged open the door, creeping into the room, her heart pounding in her chest. 

In the middle of her room stood a figure, cloaked in black, disheveled hair, a scruffy beard, and that solemn look he’d always had whenever taking on something that was in no way his responsibility. In his hands was a snow globe. 

“I thought I ought to deliver it in person this time around.”


End file.
